


Joys and Regrets

by HerAwesomeShinyness



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crying, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Multi, Post-Canon, earendil isn't really there but he is the main focus of discussion, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 16:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerAwesomeShinyness/pseuds/HerAwesomeShinyness
Summary: Their trials long ended, Idril, Tuor and Voronwe spend an evening looking at the stars, and have conversation they didn't know they needed to have.For Em, using her hcs.





	Joys and Regrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elvntari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvntari/gifts).



The moon hadn't risen yet, and the stars were giving their all in his absence. Truly, it was a spectacular sight.

Idril sighed, and dropped her head on Tuor's shoulder.

From his left, she heard Voronwe hum contentedly and cuddle into him as well. He really was very comfortable.

It was a ritual they observed every time they had a few hours to themselves, and soon, following the ritual, Tuor chuckled, and swept an arm around her, lifting her onto his lap. In front of her, Voronwe was pressed into his chest and beaming at her, glowing with love and happiness.

"You two are ridiculous," Tuor said, in that special tone that meant he was rolling his eyes, but also that he was carefully storing this memory in his heart. She couldn't judge him, she was doing the same.

"Shut up and stay comfy, dear," Voronwe mumbled instead. Well, probably that was what he mumbled, he was far too busy trying to burrow deeper into Tuor's chest to be comprehensible.

That seemed like a very good way to spend the night, actually.

She pressed a quick kiss to his temple, and a slightly less quick one to Tuor's lips—so soft, especially with the contrast of his stubble—and made herself at home.

The solid warmth of her husband behind her and Voronwe's comforting—if slightly confusing, she still didn't know what exactly she felt for him—presence by her side only made the night better.

A whisper of breath by her ear made the stars shine brighter, the thrumming of a heartbeat felt in her bones made the breeze fresher, a smile in the corner of her eye filled the world with beauty.

She wasn't sure how long they spent like that, in their soft cocoon of love, but she'd probably dozed off a little.

Tuor was stroking her hair in short, strangely uncertain movements, and when she tried to look at his face his gaze was absent, lost in the stars and in his thoughts.

"What's wrong, dear?" Voronwe asked. Apparently Tuor's mood was a new development, or else the two of them had fallen asleep and woken up together. It was a nice idea to consider.

"Tuor?" She prompted gently, when he didn't answer.

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

What? What was he even talking about? How could anything ever be his fault?

"What are you talking about?" Voronwe asked, echoing her thoughts, because he was a blessing. "What's wrong?"

Tuor waved despondently in the general direction of the sky and muttered, his face hidden in her shoulder, "Oh, you know."

Considering they were on Tol Eressea specifically to star- and songaze, yes, she knew. But she also very much didn't. How was Earendil's...situation...his fault?

"Tuor...how could that ever be your fault?" Voronwe echoed her, again.

"I don't know...it just is, I know that."

Oh no, this was serious. She stood up, and went to kneel behind him, softly kneading his shoulders. "Sweetheart, you didn't force him to do anything, he's an adult who made his own choices."

"I know  _ that _ ," he said, stubbornly looking at the ground, although he had at least relaxed a bit, "I just, if I hadn't insisted so much on us leaving, he would never have followed us, would he? If I hadn't been so focused on the sea–"

"Tuor, darling," Voronwe said, in his best soothing tone. He had to use it on them a lot, the poor thing, "you know I love you, and everything you say will always have a special place in my soul, but that is the stupidest thing anyone has ever said."

"But..."

"But nothing! Our son is a star because Arda Marred makes it impossible for something to be merely beautiful, and because he made a choice for the good of everyone. You cannot take that away from him, my love."

Tuor sighed, and fell back into their arms, shaking with renewed tension.

"I know that. I do. It's. I miss him. Leaving him seemed a lot more bearable when I thought I just wouldn't see him again."

"Oh, Tuor..." she murmured.

"I thought I would die coming here, or shortly after, and I was fine with that! I thought we could save the people of Beleriand, or at least make their lives slightly better, and that while I wouldn't be there to see it at least Earendil would, and any children of his might grow up happy, and the two of you would be there for them, and..." the shivers of tension in his back had long since changed to great, world-shaking sobs as Tuor, her perfect, wonderful husband, wept desperately into his hands. She ran a soothing hand down his spine, and exchanged a single glance with Voronwe, who was combing through his hair with as much calm as he could. It was enough to see he shared her thoughts. How long had Tuor felt like this? Why had he hidden his pain from them? How could they help, now that he could no longer hold it in?

"I'm sorry," he forced out, "I shouldn't be burdening you with this, it's stupid and useless, I'm sorry, I'm tired, I can't—"

"I'm sorry." She said, wrapping her arms around him, trying to let him feel how much she regretted never having noticed his sorrow.

"Tuor, we're here," Voronwe added, "we're with you. Our son comes down regularly, and you can talk to him. He is safe, his children are, were safe, in the end, and we are here for you. You need not hide weaknesses from us, we love you."

"You don't need to be strong and protect us, you know? We can keep you safe. Just rest, my love." Maybe she would regret pushing so much power into her words in the morning, but when Tuor smiled at her through his tears and swayed in suddenly released exhaustion, she could only smile back at him.

"We can talk more in the morning, when we all feel better, if you wish to. Now sleep," Voronwe said, and though he was not nearly as powerful or skilled as her, it was enough.

Tuor slowly blinked once, twice, then fell over into her chest, the stars shining on tear tracks on his face, now relaxed with sleep.

Carefully, she started combing through his hair. He always said he found that soothing, and it was easy work, the strands soft and obedient between her fingers.

As she worked, Voronwe patted his face dry with his sleeve, and then, apparently out of ideas, started laying soft kisses anywhere he could reach, from the tip of Tuor's nose, to the back of her hands. He really was amazing.

It wasn't long after that that all three were deeply asleep, taken by the bone deep weariness of those who had to contend with great emotions. If one hadn't heard their conversation however, and were merely going off their expressions, they would assume the great emotion had been joy.

In the skies far above them, a light flashed. If they had seen it, it would have felt like a hug.


End file.
